Omnia Sol
by OhSweetRedundancy
Summary: "Help us, please? Bring us the storm; wash away the blood. Then bring us the joy and warmth of the sun." Potential warnings in Chapter 1.
1. Prologue

_Those were mad days. Mad. Everywhere you looked you could see spilled blood, ruins, and tears. Devastation seemed to have taken control of everything. He peered his nasty gaze down at us, usually nothing more than a twisted grin on his grotesque face. His gnarled hands would squish cities like they were ants and his booming laughter would sound as bombs ignite. His wicked aura would cover the sun as plane smoke, smothering crops and making the air filthier than ever. When he got hungry enough, he sould eat people whole. These people would vanish without a trace._

Thud. Thud. Thud.

My heavy boots hit the crumbling pavement. My heart seemed to be just as loud, if not more. Sweet poured down my heated, flushed face as exhaustion gripped me. How had they managed to follow me for _that_ long? I could hear their boots drawing nearer. They were getting closer. Ever so closer.

Oh, how I hated to run away. It was humiliating. Cowardly. Boss was not going to be pleased. No, he wasn't.

_The sun. Why did it have to hide? Why was it blanketed by that thick smoke? Shivers run up my back even today as I remember the chilling gloom that the sun had left us. Clouds visited a lot, trying to wash away the blood and stench of war. People, however, scowled as they came to give their comfort. I'm sorry, clouds…_

I was soaked to my bones. Shudders racked through my body as my feet pumped against the ground. My blond hair lost its usual slicked back appearance. Instead, it was plastered to my head, my face, and anywhere else it could get its sticky, saturated fingers.

Something whizzed past my ear and I released a couple profane words. I could hear the projectile find its home on the ground seconds after hitting its mark on the brick wall ahead of me. If I couldn't out run them, I'd have to try my best to hide. Even then I knew that wasn't going to work… Boss wasn't going to be happy. And I just lost a battle. I had failed him. I had failed myself. And, most of all, I had failed Germany.

_World War III had long ago started just as its cause had been long forgotten. It was attack or be attacked here. That's what we Italians found out the hard way. Help us, please? Bring us the storm; wash away the blood; then bring us the joy and warmth of the sun._

"Brother? Brother! Lovino!"

"Si, Feliciano~~~~? Oh, my…"

**A/N: **Hello! This is my first Hetalia fanfiction (yay!). I hope I didn't make Italy too mature? I hope to make him grow a lot during the story… ANYWAY! I own nothing! Please review and let's see if I can keep this thing going!


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I think I should clear this up now. I don't know if there was any confusion in the last chapter, but both Italy and Germany were narrating. Italy was in the italics (Wow, just noticed that! Italy... Italics... Get it?) and Germany was the normal text. I apologize!

Also, holy fridge it's been forever since I've updated this thing. O~o Scary forever, but have no fear! I shall try to keep this and one other going! I'll try my best, if they get enough feedback! The chapters will get longer! I just like setting up the story little bits at a time. But! Chapters will get longer, 'kay?

_(Here we go with Italics!) REVIEWS ARE LOVE! So, please, review! Constructive criticism is ever so appreciated as well as feedback in general!_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Absolutely nothing (except for this story and my "imagination"), but I wish I do.

**Warnings: **For as much as I have up (Prologue and Chapter 1), the warnings are slight blood and implied violence (not much). Later, I think ideologically sensitive things may come up (and I mean no offense by any means, and I apologize in advance if anything does offend), definately more blood and violence. I'm not a smut writer, so if anything happens like that, it'll be implied. I think that's it!

_-Ludwig-_

I was dreaming that I was back in Germany. It was a beautiful day out; the air was warm and crisp, the soil beneath my bare feet was soft, and the crops around me were flourishing. The leaves of the potato plants were reaching up into the sky as if they were battling each other for the sun's rays. It was one of those days where I simply wanted to be in the fields.

I sighed and sat in my field of potatoes. There were times when I swear they were speaking to me, like that moment. One would whisper a, "Hello, Ludwig." Another would breathe, "Welcome back." This was my sanctuary.

Lying down, I watched the few clouds crawl across the sky. The blue sky beyond beckoned to me. How I longed to be up there, flying through the clouds and admiring my little plants from above. The fields that took all day to manage would look tiny from the altitude and the house that I shared with no one would merely be a speck.

A black dot emerged from the horizon, catching my attention. Was it one of the aircrafts I had been yearning to fly? I pulled myself into a sitting position to get a better view. More dots appeared behind it and a sense of trepidation made its home in my stomach.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Not my potatoes. Anything but my potatoes...

_-Feliciano-_

Dab. Dab. Dab.

The blood caked his face and his hair like it was a second layer of skin. The sweat rolling down his cheeks or the tender wipes of my damp cloth were putting up a valiant fight; it refused to part from the blond man in front of me. Yet somehow, I had managed to get most of the blood cleaned up.

Dab. Dab. Dab.

My brother and I had moved him from the frigid floor to the couch. All the while, Lovino was grunting complaints at the man's weight, demanding to know what he ate. I tried to console him, telling him not to worry, he won't have to share his portion of pasta. We'll just make extra. I did agree with him silently, though, he was heavy.

Dab.

I retracted my hand and cloth from the mysterious man's face. I squinted my eyes, which my brother keeps telling me is a horrible habit, and dragged them along his body. He was large. Not fat large, by any means, but muscular. Well-built. Judging by the blond hair, build, and what was that in his hand? I blinked. Why hadn't I noticed that before?

With great care, I pulled his hand from him and began prying his fingers away from whatever he clutching. They seemed gentle,, his hands, but also so large and calloused. One finger free. Two. Three, and the edge of whatever there was. Then, the fingers snapped shut and I felt my back hit the floor. What in the-?

I shot up into a sitting position and was met with two, icy blue eyes. They were enchanting. I couldn't do anything but stare into them with wide-eyes. I felt like I could just step into them, they were so clear. Yet, at the same time, they seemed kind of dark. I'd have to bring a flashlight with if I were to do so. It was such a beautiful, but frightening, combination. I didn't want to leave them, though, but a voice was pulling me out.

"... you?"

I refocused my gaze on the battered blond. "Huh?"

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"I'm Feliciano!" I exclaimed. The fact that he was now conscious hit me. I could finally talk to him, ask him questions, and discover who he is! "I live here with my brother! Boy, were we surprised to find you here when we came home! Who are you, anyway? What happened?"

He seemed to stare at me in shock, his mouth moving in an attempt to form words. Then he said, "Could you repeat that one more time, but slower?"

Oh. Oops.

"You speak Italian!" I said in delight. "My brother doubted it, calling you a potato freak! He concluded that you aren't from around here. I'm not sure why, though." Then I repeated myself, but the excitement was still fluttering in my chest. He was finally awake!

"Ah, yes. I do. Uh, my name is Ludwig," he said with an accent I just detected. Fratello was right!

"You're German!"

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes."

"Then why are you here in Italy?"

"Just business," stated Ludwig after a moment's hesitation.

"Oh. It must be some business, then, if you had this happen to you!" I observed, pointing at what was left of the blood (most of it was in his hair, especially along his hairline) and various injuries.

"I was... mugged," he said. "Just some thugs."

"Don't worry! I'll protect you from now on! I'll be like your personal, Italian bodyguard!" I declared with pride, puffing my ever-so-manly chest out.

He just stared at me with a puzzled look. I, however, was ecstatic so it never registered completely. I was going to be his sun, shining brightly. I was going to keep him warm, strong, healthy, and be a comforting presence. I was going to help him get back on his feet.

I leaned in to whisper, "Don't pay my brother too much attention. He doesn't like you for some reason. I think he's under the impression that you love potatoes. Like, live for them." I burst out laughing, squeezing my eyes shut. "I think he's silly, don't you?"

If I had opened my eyes enough I would have noticed a red tinge cross adorably over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. I would have also noticed him mouth, "I miss my potatoes," and a longing expression etched onto his face. Maybe I was going to have to be his clouds, too.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Wow, the last chapter was really messy, so I hope this one's cleaner and clears up the last one a little? Okay! So! I'm not sure how successful this will be? I hope it will be!

Ludwig's part is so short! And I had such a hard time writing it, and I'm not happy with it... Hm. But, I'm slowly getting back in shape with writing I think (I hope). I hope to make chapters longer yet, also.

One more thing, if anyone can tell me how to turn off the word completion thing on OpenOffice, I will be super happy.

**Review.** They make me better, and I have much, much, much, much, much (times infinity) room for improvement! And they help the story move along! So review! They make my world go round!

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill.

_-Feliciano-_

After making sure our guest was adequately filled with pasta and extra clean, I found myself stepping off the concrete, front stairs and onto the rare, placid street. We needed groceries, and seeing that we had an extra mouth to feed, we would need more. I didn't mind, I love cooking pasta, but my brother would grumble about Ludwig being a freeloader. Again, not that I mind.

Our street seemed pretty peaceful for the moment. No one stirred except for a cat in an alley. A crashing sound scared it off as it knocked over a metal trash bin. I sighed, thrusted my hands in my pants pockets, and continued on along the asphalt. The sky above was a deep grey. The clouds up there seemed to be contemplating whether or not they wanted to pour rain upon us. They scanned the city, their rumbling discussion audible every now and then. They were determining whether or not we were worthy of or needed their blessing. Silently, I hoped the clouds would decide to drench this place and thanked whoever gave me this peaceful moment; it allowed my mind to replay what had happened in the past couple hours.

"_Brother? Brother! Lovino!" I whimpered, shrinking away from our open, front door. I could see little droplets of blood gaze up at me and snuggle deeper into the rug. They seemed as if they wanted to siesta, instantly drawing my attention to my own fatigue. What time was it anyway?_

_Oh, right! The blood and the door._

"_Si, Feliciano~~~! Oh my..." Lovino's voice trailed off as his eyes followed the blood trail into the narrow town home we owned. I watched as he paled at its sight, glanced at me, and then turned red in what I guessed to be anger or maybe fear. "Who in the world would be insane enough to break into someone's house like this! Geez, whoever it is is dead to me! DEAD!"_

_With that, he stomped into our home like an elephant. "Who's in here?" he demanded, disappearing into the battlefield._

_I hesitated. Should I go in there or not? There could have been some soldier in there waiting to blow our brains out, some body laying in there that we're going to be framed for, a starving, savage beast, a rapist, or anything as far as I knew. I could also have just been paranoid._

_Loud profanities sounded and my heart dropped. "Lovino! Are you okay? I'm coming in!" I screeched back and took a shaky step inside._

"_I'm fine, other than this... thing passed out on the floor! He's getting blood everywhere! Does he even realize how much this rug cost me? And how much it's worth now?" he responded; frustration was dripping from his voice. I visualized a huff and pout coupled to follow that statement._

_A rounded corner told me my imagination was correct. He was standing over a big built, blond haired main with his arms crossed, lower lip hanging out, and eyes narrowed threateningly. Crimson surrounded the fallen figure, giving him a morbid glow. The crimson also coated itself on his face, streaked his hair, and was splattered across his clothes._

"_I think we should kick him to the curb to die. Teach this idiot a lesson. He's probably German, anyway. All the better; one less Germ to worry about."_

_The Germans. We Italians were at war with them. As far as we were concerned, the Germans were heartless beasts that would end your life in the slowest, most painful way without a second thought. In fact, they would be cackling the whole time with glee. Stories of these atrocities circled throughout Italy, scaring little children into staying home because these monsters had "infiltrated Italian streets and our lurking among our very people."_

"_But... But... Brother! Can't we take care of him until he gets better?" I protested. My mouth felt like someone had stuffed cotton balls into it, it was so dry. "Please?"_

_Lovino turned to glare at me. "Absolutely not!"_

"_Please! At least until he's better! I'll take care of him super well! You won't even notice he's here! Promise!" I pleaded, my eyes flitting back and forth between the mysterious man on the floor and my stubborn brother._

_He paused for a moment, then grumbled, "Fine! But if he kills us in the middle of the night, this is all **your** fault! And he gets none of my share of pasta, and you have to clean up after him, all right?"_

_I beamed at my brother, who left the room muttering curses under his breath, before returning my attention to my patient. I had pushed my sleepiness to the back of my mind; I was now completely awake. Then it hit me. I wasn't strong enough to move this man to a suitable place by myself._

"_Uh... Fratello? Brother? Can you help me?"_

The sound of feet and voices pulled me from my daze. I was entering the busier part of town where vendor stalls littered the edges of the street, stores lined the side of the road, and people squeezed past each other to get to their destination. The odor of sweat, food, and animals hung in the air.

Our usual store lay not that far off, just a right and then another block. It was such a well-traveled route that I was always able to make it there without thinking. I could make it while still lost in my own thoughts. A skip and I jogged the rest of the way, weaving my way through the mass, with the German man still in my head. I had to get back to him as soon as possible. I just had to hope that Lovino didn't kick him out or Ludwig didn't hurt himself while I was gone.

_-Ludwig-_

The small man, Feliciano his name was, had left about thirty minutes. Beforehand he had fed me and helped clean myself up. Why he was so ecstatic to help me, I still can not fathom to this day. He had welcomed a German into the house with open arms, only his brother seemed to have the logic to think, 'We're Italian. He looks German, and quite possibly as soldier.. Our countries are at war and hate each other with all their hearts. What if he kills us?'

I was asking myself those questions, too. What if Feliciano had actually left to go find some Italian policemen or, worse yet, soldiers? It was completely illogical and against the soldier's guidelines to do this! Not to mention to mention dangerous. Then again, as much as I hate to admit it, I didn't have much of a choice. I was left for dead in their home, and they decided to keep me. Now, with my injuries, I couldn't move very much without pain flaring through my body. That and if THEY knew I was still alive, they would surely finish me off, especially since I had to get back to Germany as soon as I could.

I knew those questions would be answered soon, but I didn't know how soon. I exhaled sharply and sank back farther into the couch. It was comfortable and the blanket Feliciano lent me smelled lightly of laundry detergent and outside. Before I knew it, my eyelids were fluttering shut and I was drifting off to sleep.

_-Feliciano-_

What do German people like to eat?

Can anyone tell me?

Fratello mentioned potatoes.

Maybe I should get a lot of potatoes and make something from them?

I didn't know, and I couldn't ask.

Finally, I settled on potatoes and sausage, the closest type I could get to wurst. Stereotypically, before the war, we were under the impression that Germans like potatoes, wurst, and beer. 'Definitely no beer!' I decided. 'He's still healing!'

I desperately hoped he'd like it. I guess I'd just have to wait and see. I also bought some extra pasta to satiate my brother and me.

I pushed my way through the front door and headed instantly toward the kitchen. The sausage and sauce ingredients had to be refrigerated instantly! I began humming lightly to myself as I put the groceries away, unaware of a second presence.

"Feli," a voice broke through the otherwise silence. I turned to face my brother, who was looking at me with stony, emerald eyes.

"Si, brother?" I asked, cocking my head ever so slightly.

"I still don't' approve of this," he stated seriously. All hints of leaking insults or anything of the sort were gone. Instead, he was blunt and to the point.

"It'll be fine!" I reassured him. "Don't worry! Anyway, he's too badly wounded to do a lot of moving, so he's stuck in the couch for now! And, by the time he's healed enough, I'm sure we'll all be friends!"

Oh, how I hoped so. Please be so.

Lovino just grunted, looking away from me. He seemed suddenly interested in the little, flashing television on the counter. The news was on, displaying images of the streets, war, and occasionally tiny stories of joy accompanied by a muted reporter. She would point at some scene then talk hurriedly about the story. For this story, her eyes and face radiated fear; there was a riot behind her.

People scowled at the camera, yelling slogans and other phrases I couldn't make out. Signs were being hoisted above the heads of the crowd like battle flags and smoke could be seen rising from two of three different spots. In the lower, right hand corner there were the words "Live from Naples".

"They say the riot's about closing Italy off from Germany. Completely They'll likely want to cut all ties and send anyone one connected with Germany back," he said, pulling my attention from the television. Then he turned to me, his eyes darkening. "Which means most likely they'll want to deport the one you're... we're housing if he's caught. And most likely us as well. You know, association."

I felt like I left my body, observing the both of us from the heavens. I could see my brother looking at me, and I standing frozen with my mouth working to form words. I took that as a yes, he could stay, but at a great risk.

A crash sounded outside, followed by the rhythm of rain pounding against our humble home. Thank you.


End file.
